Henry
by MASH-Nut-4077
Summary: What if Henry had lived? Complete!
1. The Crash

**(A/N: Muahaha, I bringed deh storie bahk! I promise I'll do better this time! Review? Please?)**

Henry

Chapter One

The roaring of the plane engines filled the whole plane from first class to coach. But even this, accompanied by the vague chatter of other passengers, could not penetrate the deep thoughts of a certain former Officer in the US Army, who just happened to be on his way home. One of the lucky few. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the odd odors emitted by the man next to him who was clutching a large salami. Wrinkling his nose, Henry sat back and allowed his mind to be overcome with thoughts of home, back in Bloomington, Illinois. His wife and three children, one of whom he knew only from pictures, appeared before him. It took merely moments for him to doze off, perfectly comfortable in his new suit.

Deafening shots rang out, jolting Henry back to reality. He heard the panicked screams of other passengers and shouted as the plane tipped to one side and he was slammed painfully against the window. Glancing out to find the Sea of Japan looming close, Henry also noticed the black smoke that curled in great amounts from the wing, just behind his seat, where a gaping hole had been torn in the metal. They were losing altitude fast. The situation seemed hopeless.

Rather than clutching the seat edges and arm rests, as everyone else did, Henry clasped his hands in prayer, something he hadn't done since Father Mulcahy's last sermon back at the 4077th. His lips moved silently, asking the Lord to bring some good of this terrible predicament. He opened his eyes to see the pale, frightened, glistening faces of those around him and closed his own eyes as the plane began to rotate, spinning in nauseating circles until impacting on the water's surface. The former Commanding Officer felt something wet slide down his cheek before being thrown forward into the seat before him, and, as his head hit, everything went dark.


	2. Breaking the News

****

Chapter Two

"Radar, put a mask on!" Trapper yelled as Corporal O'Reilly staggered into the Operating Room. His dirty glasses were slightly askew, and tears glistened behind them. In one hand, he clutched a telegram. It was crumpled and damp from being in his fist.

"If that's my discharge, give it to me straight. I can take it!"

Hawkeye called out from where he stood in a puddle of blood, fondly remembering that same time two or three days ago, when their former Commanding Officer., Henry Blake, had gotten news of his being sent stateside. For once, Radar didn't feel squeamish at the sight of the surgeons' hands buried inside the bodies of soldiers. He ignored them both, grabbing the edge of a prep table to steady himself.

"I have a message..."

Each voice quieted, prepared for bad news. They rarely saw their boyish company clerk this sad before, his round, child-like face so pale.

"Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the sea of Japan. It spun in." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "There weren't no survivors." He choked out the last words, leaning against the table harder than ever before. A tray or clamp somewhere fell to the floor. Radar disappeared, probably to sit and be alone. Hawkeye's hands faltered and he suddenly felt nauseous; the room swam before his eyes.

There was silence all throughout the Operating Room, save for a few dry sobs from some of the nursing staff. Hawkeye suddenly dropped his clamp and heaved, exiting the room and running outside. After requesting that a nurse close his finished patient, Trapper yelled for Margaret to hold Pierce's until return, and followed. The blonde-haired nurse nodded silently, walking with as much dignity as she could muster, over to the table Hawkeye had occupied only moments before. She held the clamp in her trembling fingers, anxiously looking toward the door.

Trapper peeked outside to find his fellow surgeon sitting in the dirt, his face hidden in his bloodstained hands. He kneeled next to his best friend and sighed, pulling Hawkeye's hands away to reveal a fresh wave of tears pouring from his charming antique blue eyes. "Why…? Why?" He mouthed silently, staring ahead at Trapper with a vacant look on his face. Trapper himself could'nt hold back the tears, and sat down beside him.

After several moments of silence, they rose together and re-entered O.R. to meet, once again, a deafening quiet, except for the metallic clinking noise of surgical instruments being disinfected, and the mumbles of doctors to the nurses assisting them. Margaret Houlihan was where Trapper had left her, gently squeezing the clamp that held together an enlisted man's insides, which had been torn open by an enemy artillery shell. Hawkeye relieved her of the clamp and nodded. "We're almost done." The Major took this opportunity and retired to her tent where she lie on her cot, crying. How many times had she and Frank gone over Henry's head? They had called him names; in fact, they had called him everything short of a two-headed cow, including a failure as a commander. What they hadn't realized, however, was that no matter how many faults there were in his command, he still held their unit together. The tears doubled.

*

The surgeons and nurses eventually finished their section, a rather short one, for it had lasted only a few hours. The casualties were minor, and for that, they were thankful. Nobody retreated to their quarters faster than Hawkeye, Trapper, and even Frank, who fairly dove into the Swamp and onto their beds. Faster than one could say "I want it dry", Trapper was already up and making mixing martinis with practiced ease. In a short while, the two Captains and Major each had a martini glass full of the toxic liquids, downing them swiftly to try and relieve the pain of losing Henry. Momentarily they stopped to listen, hearing the crickets outside sounding as though they were mourning in their own way. It was not long before most of the camp was asleep, attempting to drown out their sorrows. 


	3. Awakening

**Chapter Three**

Henry woke in darkness. Puffs of hot breath settled on the heavy material that had been placed over his body, and came back to warm his face. Bumps rattled his bruised frame, but most of them weren't noticed. His limbs felt frozen. However, as the feeling came back to his muscles, a particularly hard bump caused him to cry out softly. A bloody lump was raised on his forehead. A souveneir of the crash, so to speak.

"Oh God... stop the truck! I think we got a livin' one back here!"

A voice called, somewhere near him. Before Henry's brain could think it out, the heavy white sheet came off and he found himself staring into the face of a relatively young nurse. She placed two fingers to the side of his neck, directly over his jugular vein. The steady drumbeat pulse of blood was there; she hadn't felt it before, since the unseasonably cold water termperatures had practically frozen him. His skin had taken on a lifeless pallor and texture, both of which were beginning to return by now. He was unbelievably lucky. Looking slowly around, Henry saw the bodies of other passengers, all covered with the white sheets. Dead. Faintly, very faintly, he remembered the plane crash.

As the woman continued to examine him, the colonel blinked slowly and looked up, through blurred vision, into her face. "Lorraine...?" Was all he said, before blackness claimed him once more. Henry Blake was alive!


	4. A Life Changing Announcement

**Chapter Four**

O.R. was not the same room it had been three days ago, before Radar came in and delivered his heartbreaking message. Occupying it was the subdued group that had been in surgery that awful day. A quiet buzzing filled the room; a blended murmur of the doctors' voices as they requested some surgical instrument, followed almost instantly by the nurses, repeating the tool's name in monotone. Other than that, the silence was unbearable.

Hawkeye's skin was pale, moreso than usual, his usual bright blue eyes dull. His hands shook dangerously as he operated. The captain had not been his normal self since the announcement of the plane crash when they lost Henry. It had an obviously tremendous impact on the whole camp. Especially Radar, who came into the room moments later, tearstains still evident running down his cheeks. As soon as he entered and looked up, a quiet sniffle was partially stifled, and he walked quickly out again. Nurse Kellye stepped away from the table she was assisting at, pulled down her mask, and sighed heavily.

"Come on now, everyone, I know that the last few days have been painful. I miss Henry just as much as the rest of you, and you know it, but we have to move on sometime." Her voice quavered slightly, but grew stronger to be heard in the small office outside the O.R. "Radar, please, something to liste-"

Before she could finish, Radar had flipped on the radio, and soft music occupied the empty air space.

'Happy days are here again...'

A voice sang, the familiar song beginning to lift a few spirits. Suddenly, the woman's voice was cut off. It was replaced by another filled with great urgency, and caused everyone to look up.

"Attention! I have breaking news concerning the recent crash of Tokyo flight One-One-Four-Seven over the Sea of Japan. One survivor has been found, a Lieutenant Colonel Henry Braymore Blake, former Commanding Officer of the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital unit number Four-Zero-Seven-Seven. It appears that the Colonel will be fine, though he sustained a slight concussion in the crash. More information will follow as soon as it is revealed. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming."

There was a loud 'thump' in the other room as Radar fainted. 


	5. Life of the Party

**Chapter Five**

Henry sat up in bed and rolled his eyes at the doctors around him who insisted on poking and prodding him for the millionth time, or so it seemed.

"Come on sirs... I'm _fine!_"

He said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. He threw back the covers and stood up, oblivious to the fact that his hospital gown had just flown open in the back, and turned circles as though to prove his condition was perfect. Then he pointed to a spot on the whitewashed wall behind the specialists.

"Look over there!"

His shout aroused the attention of those few men and caused them to turn. While they stood there like complete morons and tried to figure out what the man had pointed at, and wondered whether or not he was delusional, Henry slipped out the door. Before they knew what had happened, he was gone, and before they could even begin to look for him, he was boarding a plane for Kimpo. Clutched in his hand was his fishing lure hat - the only thing that had survived the crash besides him.

*

That night, with patients resting comfortably in the Post-Op ward, a celebration raged full force in the Mess tent. Beers were passed around, and Igor had managed to scrape up a decent meal, one of the best that anyone had eaten in quite awhile.

"I just can't believe he's alive! I should've known that old Henry could cheat death... must've all been one big poker game to him."

Hawkeye said with a laugh, a martini in one hand. He and Trapper had temporarily relocated the still to be used by anyone who dared, but so far, few had been brave enough to drink such toxins as what the two Captains managed to brew.

"But sir, Colonel Blake didn't cheat at poker! Well, at least not as much as you do!"

Radar said defensively, though he couldn't help but smirk slightly. "You vertically challenged twerp! Don't give away my poker secrets!" The captain said, pretending to look horrified, and Radar giggled. A big grin was pasted on his face. It had been there since he regained consciousness. Hawkeye grinned and rested one arm around his low shoulders, looking up as a faint knock sounded at the door. All eyes turned in that direction. Everybody in the whole camp had attended the celebration, and as far as anyone knew, nobody was missing.

"Er, come in!"

Hawkeye called, eyebrows knitted in uncertainty. Had he accidentally forgotten to invite somebody? One of the enlisted men, perhaps? That might hurt a few feelings. But lo and behold, the door opened to reveal Henry Blake, in the flesh (Almost literally, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and his hat). He was grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"Hi guys! Did you miss me?"

"HENRY!"

They all shouted in unision, flocks of people running toward their friend and former commander, tears of joy running down several faces. Radar made it there first, pulling Henry into a tight embrace, which the shy young man rarely did. However, Henry returned the hug with something even more unexpected. Since Radar seemed to eat everything in sight, yet rarely gained weight, it brought Henry little pain as he lifted the corporal who had been like a son to him. He hugged Radar close, as though it were Molly, Janie, or Andrew that he were holding.

The whole population of M*A*S*H 4077 ended their chatter abruptly to watch the touching scene, and there wasn't a dry eye in the tent. It may have just been the smell of last week's leftovers, but it was most likely the sight of Henry and Radar. A single tear coursed its way down Hawkeye's cheek. After a moment, Henry let the boy down and said casually

"So... how long does it take to requisition some new fatigues?"

Most chuckled quietly through their tears, and resumed their previous conversations, many people stepping forward to give Henry a hug. Surprisingly, Margaret was among them. But there was one person who stood emotionless in the corner, cold and uncaring. "So who cares if the bastard lived? He shouldn't have. He deserved to die." Little did the tall man know, but Frank was standing a few feet away, lips pursed in agitation. For the umpteenth time, command of the 4077th had been snatched from his hands. The ferret-faced major turned and gave a surprised look, but didn't say anything. The man hadn't noticed him. 


	6. A Failed Attempt

**Chapter Six**

Late that night, Radar was dozing fitfully on a creaky army-issue folding chair outside Henry's tent. Guarding him, one might say; now that he was back, the young Corporal wasn't about to lose his fatherlike Commanding Officer for a second time. He had tried to stay awake. Honestly, he had, but the evening's excitement had worn him out. The sound of the crickets' rejoicing chirps had gently lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

*

Gravel and dirt crunched together under the standard hole-filled boots as Sergeant Rowland Demorest stalked across the dark compound, stopping occasionally to glance furitively about. It was nearly midnight; there was nobody around. In fact, the only ones awake would probably be the nurses on Post-Op duty. The others were collapsed on their cots. No doubt sleeping away the thought of what hangovers the morning would bring.

Had one been around to see, they would have noticed that this strange, secretive man was none other than the unfamiliar sergeant at the party, who had made some rather unfavorable comments about Henry. In fact, his exact words had been 'So who cares if the bastard lived? He shouldn't have. He deserved to die.' Not very nice, is it? Well, this tall man made his way across the small basketball ring, right towards Henry's tent. What he hadn't counted on, though, was Radar, who was still sleeping lightly outside the canvas abomination.

"Huh? Wha? Who's there?"

The young corporal started awake, his glasses falling down into his lap. Without them, he couldn't see the tall man running swiftly away, back towards the camp's perimiter. What he had seen, though, was the flash of steel from his hand; a knife.


	7. Radar's Report

**Chapter Seven**

Gasping hoarsely as he ran, Sergeant Demorest made it to the camp's perimiter and bent to regain his breath. The knife was quickly pocketed. Then it was out and behind the nurses tent, around the Swamp, and he was back to his own Quarters. The other Enlisted slept like a sack of rocks; no one heard him enter.

Meanwhile, Radar had grabbed the round spectacles from out of his lap. Fumblingly he put them on, accidentally poking himself in the eye in the process.

"MP's! MP's! Guards!"

Almost out of nowhere came a tall man in olive green fatigues, with a Military Police band around his left arm and "MP" painted in white on his helmet. "What seems to be the problem, Corporal?" He asked curtly, to which Radar answered in one long word. "SomeguytriedtogetintoColonelBlake'stentandIthinkhehadaknifegogetimgetimgquick!!!" The MP held up one hand and said "Whoa, slow it down sparky. Now what happened?" The small Company Clerk took a deep breath. "Some guy tried to get inta Colonel Blake's tent, and I think he had a knife! Please find him, he ran toward the edge of camp!"

The Policeman put two fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle. Radar covered his ears and winced as two others came out of the darkness, carrying rifles. "Corporal O'Reilly says a man with a knife attempted to enter the Colonel's tent. Search every nook and cranny of this camp; I want him found." Said the first. He then turned back to Radar and asked "Did you see what he looked like?" "No sir. My glasses sorta fell off." Radar said with a sheepish look, before the three MP's left, splitting up. The Corporal sank back into his chair, rubbing one hand nervously over his face.

Sleeping off the effects of a monstrous hangover and a mildly serious concussion at the same time, Henry didn't wake to all the noise.


	8. Mail Bearing Major

**Chapter Eight**

"Stupid mail... Stupid Corporal... Stupid three-day pass!"

Frank was, as usual, grousing about the duties to which he had been assigned by Colonel Blake. Radar had been reluctant to go, but the Colonel had insisted that he take a three day pass to Tokyo, to relieve some stress.

Flinging the mail aside venemously he kicked the heavy bag. It didn't budge. For a moment he hopped around, holding the toe of his army boot, when one particular letter caught his attention. It was addressed to 4431 Taiku Street, Seoul. The address was repeated in Korean.

"What's this?"

In the corner of the envelope was a bright red stamp that said "Top Secret, Rush Delivery". The ferret-faced man's upper lip curled as he looked around furitively. No one. He quickly grabbed a sharp letter opener off Radar's desk and slit the top of his find, shaking the letter out with a gleeful expression. He picked it up and unfolded it carefully, reading.

_Dear Mat-Sune,_

Our plan has failed. Colonel Blake is still alive, and it will take more than myself alone to finally get rid of him once and for all. I know I have called upon you for many other favours, including the previous one which came so close to taking care of the bastard. But I need your help. 

Have you got any more of that DDT chemical? If those idiotic scientists are correct, it could do some serious damage if sprayed in our precious Lieutenant Colonel's breakfast, no? Please contact me as soon as possible.

Sgt. Dmst.

Frank raised a curious eyebrow as his devious hazle eyes scanned the "Sgt. Dmst." He would have to investigate that later. Stuffing the letter into its envelope and both into his breast pocket. Then he settled into Radar's chair, closing his eyes in a better attempt to digest the information he had just acquired. What was going on right under Henry's nose, and for how long? Why? So many things to think about... eventually he fell asleep.


	9. In on the Plan

**Chapter Nine**

"Sir? Sir. Sir... Major Burns, sir. SIR! WAKE UP!"

Radar shouted, taking a step back and adjusting his glasses nervously as Frank started awake. Staring coldly at the Company Clerk, he suddenly remembered the letter in his pocket and forced a smile.

"Say, Radar, ol' buddy ol' pal..."

With a roll of his eyes, the corporal said the exact words that were on the tip of Frank's tongue before he could get them out. "Yessir, camp personnel list, coming right up." Jaw dropping slightly, Frank watched as he went to the file cabinet, opened one drawer, and began searching through the "P" file. 

"Aha. Here we go... under "P" for "People"."

He handed the slightly-wrinkled paper to Frank, who tore it from his hand and began reading quickly. Grabbing a pencil from Radar's desk, he made a small dot next to the name of each Sergeant, and the one that caught his eye right away was Sergeant Demorest. Watching to make sure Radar was nowhere near, he pulled the letter from his breast pocket and looked at it carefully. Sgt. Dmst. Sergeant Demorest. It simply had to be. With a cunning smile he folded the letter and envelope up again, putting it back in his pocket, and got up from the chair. It gave a squeak as he darted out of the office and left the personnel list behind, laughing like a maniac.

*

"Excuse me, sergeant Demorest?"

Frank said officiously as he knocked on the door of the Enlisteds' tent. A disgruntled Klinger came to answer, wearing a bright pink cocktail dress, and two pink barrettes in his hair.

"Oh. It's you."

The corporal said, slightly annoyed, and turned around to yell into the tent. "Hey, Rowland, Major Burns is here to see you." The sergeant looked genuinely confused as he came outside, closing the door behind him. His brown eyes glinted slightly in the sunlight. "Yes Major Burns, sir?"

"Drop the formalities Demorest. I know all about you and your plot to _get rid_ of the Colonel."

Rowland's expression changed from confused to angry as Frank made his statement. "Oh, an I suppose you've come to rat on me, huh major?" He spit the word 'major' out venemously. Frank's eyes glittered dangerously as he said in a low tone

"No, sergeant. I want in." 


	10. Confusion

**Chapter Ten**

"Oh Fraaaaank..."

Hawkeye called in a sing-song voice as he opened up Margaret's door. Obviously, as usual, he paid no heed to the "Knock before entering" sign. Only those who were actually _afraid_ of her took notice. 

"Pierce, get out!" Margaret shouted when she saw his head poke into her tent. She wrapped the nightgown tighter around her frame and grabbed one of the wooden hairbrushes off her desk and flung it at his head. However, it bounced loudly off the door rather than her original target.

"Margaret, I need to talk to Frank! Open up your wardrobe and get him out here! Me and him go on Post-Op duty in ten minutes!"

The wooden door opened about two inches, and Hawkeye found himself staring into the major's soft blue eyes. For the most part they were filled with tears, but a glint of anger was obvious behind the glassy surface. She said in a quiet voice "I sent him away." Hawkeye raised an eyebrow, but not in his normal teasing manner, and asked gently "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, there's a lot that's wrong right now." Was her heavy reply. Suddenly she took a step out and grabbed his wrist, dragging him through and into her tent, where she promptly began crying. Worriedly Hawkeye took her gently into his arms, and she pulled him to her, leaning on his shoulder.

"Hawkeye, I think Frank's trying to kill Colonel Blake."

The black-haired man's strong arms wrapped subconsciously tighter around Margaret's slender frame, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.


	11. Threats

**Chapter Eleven**

"Kill Henry? How can that be?"

Hawkeye angrily interrogated Margaret, who sat on her cot, head in hands. Looking up, she reached into her pillowcase and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded over several times to form a tiny square. She handed it to Hawkeye, who unfolded it, his warm blue eyes now like chips of ice. Suddenly his smooth surgeons' hands began to shake, and the paper, which had been Sergeant Demorest's letter, ripped down the center.

"Damn him! I'll kill Frank right here and now... where is that jackass?"

He pulled away from Margaret, who looked at him with frightened eyes. "I... I don't know. I would have thought he would go back to the Swamp..." "Then that's where I'll look." Turning, Hawkeye stormed across the tent and opened the door. But for a moment he looked back and saw Margaret standing there, picking bits of paper up off the floor. Going back to her, he lifted her chin and kissed her passionately.

"And that's just a snack."

With one of those trademark smiles he strode out onto the compound, still fuming inwardly.

*

The door of the Swamp flew open, nearly coming off its hinges, as Hawkeye strode purposefully inside. But... there was no Frank. Hawkeye searched around a bit before going outside again, the door still swinging heavily from its last bout of violent treatment.

This time he headed for the Enlisted's tent, having a good idea of where Frank might be. However, before storming in and attempting to murder him, Hawkeye put his ear up against the door. He heard voices.

"But we could be executed for this!"

It was the distinctive, whiny voice of Major Frank Burns. A stronger, and possibly smarter (If you can hear intelligence in one's voice) voice followed.

"Yes, that's true... but only if we get caught. And I'll make sure we don't. Now listen!" The voice hissed. "Henry'll be going home soon. We all know it takes time for discharge orders to go through, but since poor, unfortunate Henry was nearly killed, they'll rush it for him. We need to stop him going home. Why should he be happy, when he made me miserable? Hm?"

Frank squeaked fearfully, and there was a strangled sound to his voice. Perhaps Sergeant Demorest had his hand around Frank's throat. Hawkeye stood up and ran as fast as he could across the compound and into Post-Op, seeking out BJ. Instead, he found Margaret.

"Wha-?"

But that was all she could say before Hawkeye grabbed her arm and dragged her towards Radar's office. Inside they found BJ. Hawkeye latched onto him too, and dragged them out the door in the direction of Margaret's tent, where he explained everything.


	12. A Plan?

**Chapter Twelve**

BJ, the new surgeon at M*A*S*H 4077 who had taken over for Trapper when he left, looked horrified. He'd only known Colonel Blake for two days, and ever since BJ had arrived in camp, nothing good had happened. It kinda made you think.

"Well? What can we do?"

Hawkeye looked at his newest partner-in-prank and said thoughtfully "Demorest, or whatever the hell his name is, seems to have a lot of Korean friends in high places. We don't wanna be on the bad side of this Mat-Sune person, so we'll have to do it quietly. I, for one, don't wanna be murdered in this khaki airsick bag.

"Good point."

"Don't you get it?" Margaret asked, obviously annoyed, before a small smile lit up her face. "We have to be cunning, think up a good plan... you know? It'll be the most exciting thing that's ever happened in this camp... camp! We can get more personnel to help us! Just think..."

As she started going off with plans of adventure, of all things, Hawkeye's eyebrows nearly receded into his hairline. "Margaret, you make it sound like this is a game! They're trying to kill Henry! He managed to make it back once, but if he ends up with poisonous chemicals that _aren't_ the ones regularly implanted in our food, he's not gonna make it back again!"

Margaret's eyes welled with tears, and she took a step back. His face softened, though he hadn't been speaking harshly in the first place. "I'm sorry. Come here." He hugged her for a moment, until he saw the look on BJ's face, the raised eyebrow and sneaky little smile... though he would love to have taken it further (It _is_ Hawkeye we're talking about), Hawkeye released her and smiled innocently.

"Actually, I think Margaret's got quite a good idea." A smile lit up the woman's face, and she looked back and forth between them. "There's not much we can do now, except keep an eye on Henry. But Hawkeye, I'm warning you... you're already twenty minutes late for Post-Op duty in here, and Frank'll be coming soon. BJ, go back to the Swamp and see what you can think up. I'll be in my tent."

And, standing tall, almost regally, she walked out the door.


	13. Frank's a Jerk

**(A/N: 1. Yes, I'm aware of the fact that only one surgeon and I think two nurses go on postop duty at one time. I realised it too late, though, and won't make that mistake in the future. 2. Thank you for that wonderful review, Maggie L! 3. WARNING - Naughty language ahead! BAD FRANK!)**

Chapter Thirteen

Hawkeye had thought he'd be ready when Frank came in.

He'd thought.

Seeing that nervous, ferrety face, though, the first thing he said was "Gee, Frank, you look guilty. What'd you do now?" The other man's face contorted with anger and he spat "Fuck off!" 

For the first time since he was nearly two years old...

Benjamin Franklin Pierce was at a loss for words.

"What'd you say, ferretface?" He asked increduously, and Frank sneered at him. "Has our precious giver of life gone deaf? Oh, what a shame." He said with a wicked look. "No, you heard me. Mind your own business, you... you... buttinski!" Frank's moment of evil had passed, and he was back to his normal, sweaty, fidgety self. He sat down at the desk, while Hawkeye went around and checked on each patient.

*

With no further incident, Hawkeye and Frank ended Post-Op duty two hours later. He met Margaret and BJ outside the ward and told them what Frank had said. Both jaws dropped, and they watched, trying to seem inconspicuous, as Frank dove into the Enlisted men's tent. He probably thought he was being sneaky, but as we all know... Frank has to try REALLY hard to achieve that. 

And he didn't.

Hawkeye and Margaret went to the Swamp, while BJ and Henry took next Post-Op duty.


	14. A Plan!

**(A/N: Thanks to my two reviewers! Heehee. I know, AEM1, that was what some people complained about last time. I honestly didn't think about where Trapper left and BJ came in, I just usually associate Henry's death with BJ and Potter coming, and don't think about all the grief Hawkeye goes through when Trap goes home.**

And for people who are sending me flame emails just because Frank said 'the F word'... get a life. I don't use language like that often, but the once or twice I do, I think you can deal with it, or stop reading.)

Chapter Fourteen

Hawkeye ignored the startled looks he got as, his clothes more wrinkled than usual, his hair touseled, and his facial expression lacking the necessity of sleep, he opened the door of Margaret's tent and walked out late in the morning.

It DID look suspicious. Even for Hawkeye.

But loud gasps of astonishment followed as BJ walked out, looking much the same.

What kind of kinky stuff had gone on in Major Houlihan's tent the previous night?!

Of course, nothing had gone on. Hawkeye, BJ, and Margaret had simply spent the night trying to form a decent plan that would keep Henry from going home. In a body bag, that is. Hawkeye had been chosen to alert Henry of the danger he was in, while Margaret's task was to seduce Frank and see what information she could get out of him. BJ was in charge of Sergeant Demorest, but nobody was sure what he was going to do yet.

*

Margaret tensed as she heard Frank's 'secret' knock on her door. In as seductive a voice as she could manage, she said "Come in, darling." Frank sidled in with a suspicious look in each direction first. Then he gave a lipless smile, which made her cringe on the inside. Ever since Hawkeye's kiss, she had been wondering what she had ever seen in Frank. Maybe it was his rank. She had once stated that she could never love anyone lower-ranking than herself. How foolish.

"Frank… you haven't been to see me in days. Is something wrong?"

The smile disappeared from his face, and he fidgeted nervously, stammering out an answer. "Uh, erm, well, a Major's duties are very consuming Margaret… of course, hahaha, you would know that too!" He said with an annoying, nervous laugh. Margaret continued to smile, and held up the two halves of paper that she had picked up off the floor of her tent when Hawkeye stormed out.

Frank looked horrified.

"M-M-Margaret, honey, where did you get that? I mean... what is it? I mean... I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" He shouted, panicking, when Margaret silenced him with a kiss. It was uncomfortable for her, but Frank obviously enjoyed it. "Shhh..." She said quietly, pressing a finger to his lips.

"I'd never turn you in, Frank, darling... I want to be a part of it. This outfit, this _world_ needs to be rid of Colonel Blake once and for all."


	15. Half an Explanation

**(A/N: Mwee! More reviews! Thanks everybody! I've had some people becoming a little annoyed at how short my chapters are... if I get enough requests (IN REVIEWS! Hee.) then I'll consider trying to make them longer, but the story will be updated more infrequently.)**

Chapter Fifteen

Hawkeye slouched as he walked, like a lot of tall people do, with his hands in the pockets of his fatigues. Steel dogtags clanked quietly around his neck. He smiled slightly in returned greeting to Radar, who had said hello to him without even looking up. About to pass through the doors into Henry's office, the clerk looked up and said "He's sleepin'." "...What's new?" "Well, just leave him alone!" "Radar, I have some very important things to discuss with our valiant leader."

The small man glared half-heartedly, but just went back to his filing. Hawkeye walked into Henry's office and over to him, giving the sleeping Commanding Officer a light flick on the nose. Henry opened one eye and scowled, but sat up and stretched. He was pretty much back to his old self.

"What do you want now, Pierce?"

"Only to save your life."

The captain said with a humorless smile. Henry sat up a bit straighter, looking curious and confused. Hawkeye took the seat across from him.

"Just be careful, Henry. All we know is that the crash wasn't an accident." "Hawkeye! What'n the hell's going on here?!" Henry exploded, but Hawkeye just shook his head. "We're not sure yet. Just be careful. We don't want to lose you." "Who's this we?" "The crew of the Save the Henry Foundation." Smiling, Hawkeye took this opportunity to depart from the office, bumping straight into Radar's ear as he opened the door. "Tell you later." "You better tell me later." They said at the same time, but Hawkeye just walked away, as it was a normal occurrence.

Gee. Isn't it nice to have something normal like a company clerk with ESP once in awhile?


	16. A Warning and OR

**(A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Alright, I'll _try_ a longer chapter... Next time. I promise. I just never seem to end in the right place. But then again... I loves de cliffhangers. HAH!)**

Chapter Sixteen

BJ was meandering on his way towards the Enlisted men's tent, wondering what he was going to say to Sergeant Demorest, or whoever else he happened to meet in there. His head suddenly came up, though, as there was a blaring over the PA system.

"Wounded! Not many, folks, but they're hurt bad! Team one report to triage in the compound, the rest of you hit the OR!"

Frank and BJ were, for this rotation, on team two. So Henry and Hawkeye would be in the compound, assessing victims of the war as they were hauled out of ambulances. BJ sprinted to the scrub room, skidding to a halt as he found Frank, Margaret, and an unfamiliar man inside already. He guessed it to be Sergeant Demorest, however, judging by his slightly surprised and angry expression, and his stripes. Margaret stood in front of Frank and fixed BJ with an icy glare.

"Have you been eavesdropping on us, Captain?! We're Majors! Consider yourself on report!" A high-pitched giggle eminated from the ferret of a man behind her, and she snapped "Shut up, Frank." The sergeant brushed past BJ on his way out the door while Frank and Margaret, who were already sterile, stalked angrily into the operating room.

This didn't seem to phase BJ, strangely, or Hawkeye, who came in a moment later and changed into his white gown beside him. Having told Frank that she had missed a spot scrubbing (To which Frank protested, whispering furiously that he had made sure to get everything when he scrubbed _for_ her), Margaret reappeared beside the two doctors and bent over the sink with them as they washed their hands and arms thoroughly.

"It's a gun!"

She whispered urgently, her eyes wide with something like panic.

"Demorest's got a pistol, and he's planning on using it on the Colonel on his way to the latrine tonight!"

Hawkeye and BJ's heads shot up and they stared at her, almost uncomprehendingly, mouths open slightly. They were about to say something, perhaps quizzing for more information, when Frank's sneering face poked through the doorway. 

"Are they giving you trouble, Major?"

"I've taken care of it myself, Major Burns, thank you. Captains, you're _both_ on report for conduct unbecoming of officers." Margaret said curtly, standing up straight as she prepared to accompany Frank into O.R. Hawkeye and BJ followed, prepared for the hard day and night ahead of them.


	17. Not Quite the Ultimate Sacrifice

Chapter Seventeen

"Frank, will you please knock it off?"

The beady-eyed surgeon had begun his incessant clucking. Strangely enough, this was something Frank usually did while preparing for a late-night excursion with the lovely Major Houlihan.

"Captain Hunnicutt," Margaret said stonily, trying to glare over in BJ's direction "you and Captain Pierce conduct yourselves in a manner unbecoming human beings, much less officers, in O.R. Therefore, it is not the fault of Major Burns if fatigue is altering his behavior."

"It's not altering his behavior, he acts like a chicken all the time."

Hawkeye piped up tiredly, his gloved hands professionally probing the insides of the latest soldier laid before him. For once, Frank didn't deny the fact that he was tired, or rise to the bait of the two captains, but simply went on clucking.

"Speaking of chickens" Henry said from his table "I need to go lay an egg real quick. Nurse, close for me."

"Colonel...!"

Everyone in the operating room gave a disgusted groan of protest at this comment, while Henry, too tired to care, stripped off his gloves and went through the double doors into the scrub room. Hawkeye, BJ, and Margaret all went rigid with terror as Frank's annoying clucking noises, to the tune of "Row row row your boat" became louder. He kept glancing through the window at a tall figure walking across the compound, one hand in his pocket. Margaret tried wildly to catch Hawkeye's eye, making small, jerky movements. The man was out of sight now, but Frank still paused to stare carefully out the window, now louder than ever.

It was a signal.

"Baker!"

"Anderson!"

"CLOSE FOR US!"

Hawkeye and BJ shouted in unision, running from their tables, Margaret close behind. Henry was halfway to the latrine, with Sergeant Demorest now kneeling on the ground, trying to take aim with the pistol. Henry was only steps away now. 

"Colonel! HENRY!"

Margaret shouted as loud as she could. Demorest looked up and quickly took the shot, which flew true.

But Henry wasn't the one hit.

A flash of blue hit the ground in front of him with a shout. Klinger, in his blue nurse's uniform, lay in the dirt with a bullethole in the right side of his chest. Frank, looking ready to whoop with glee, followed the nurses and doctors and corpsmen pouring out of O.R. It was rare for anyone to leave when there were wounded to attend to, but the last remaining wounds were mostly superficial, and a gunshot was not something to be taken lightly.

Demorest was gone, and Frank's face fell when he saw who had been hit.

"Klinger!"

"Oh my god!"

"What happened?"

"He's been shot!"

Rumors and accusations flew like ammunition throughout the crowd.

"Goldman!" Hawkeye shouted, running to Klinger, where Henry was already kneeling. "Get a stretcher out here, now!" Two corpsmen hauled the lebanese man into O.R. on a stretcher, Hawkeye and BJ assessing his wounds as they went. Henry ran up from behind, his face pink with rage. "Who the hell did this?" "Sergeant D... Sergeant Dettman, that man is finished, get him off the table and get it ready for Klinger! I'm operating!" Hawkeye yelled at another man, turning to Henry.

"No idea."

Margaret and BJ stared at him, mouths open, but he just shook his head and began to re-scrub.

Klinger was covered in blood as they cut open his nurse's uniform, and Hawkeye couldn't do anything but stare at the hole in his chest, just below his heart. "Hawk, you need help?" BJ asked worriedly, looking up quickly from his own patient. "No." Hawkeye said simply. "Lieutenant Baliss, come assist Major Burns. I will be assissting Captain Pierce in his operation."

"Yes major."

Margaret hurried over to Hawkeye's table, who gave her a grateful smile. Under the constant watch of Frank, though, she didn't return it.

"Suction."

"Suction."

"Sponge."

"Sponge."

"Retractor."

"Retractor."

Around the bullet hole was a mixture of burnt, torn, and pulverized flesh, blood, and ruined tissue. For a moment, Hawkeye couldn't help but stare at it. Then he turned his head, past the cloth barrier, and looked at Klinger's face. For having such dark skin, the corporal's face was abnormally pale.

"Scalpal."

"Scalpal."

He cut a deep slit on either side of the wound to widen it slightly, having Margaret suction away blood regularly so he could see what he was doing.

"Forceps."

"Forceps."

Gently easing the metal instrument into Klinger's chest, he probed with it and located the bullet. With the ends of the forceps clamped around it, he pulled ever-so-slightly on the piece of metal and dislodged it. Once the pressure was released, part of a vein that had been hit released a spurt of blood into Hawkeye's face. Margaret sponged it off, and Hawkeye kept going, sterilizing the wound and feeling to make sure he hadn't missed any fragments.

"Ready to close, doctor?"

"Ready to close."

Hawkeye sutured the wound and said

"Well, everybody, Klinger'll live to see another day, and another dress. Corpsman, give him the gown reserved for VIP's of the fairer sex. You know, the one with the pink polkadots. I think he'd like it." Hawkeye said tiredly.

"Gowned and gloved, please, and lay another unfortunate on my table."

He said, stripping off the outer layer of his soiled garments in exchange for newer ones.

"No need, Pierce, we're done."

During the operation, Hawkeye hadn't heard the call that the wounded were all gone. He hadn't heard the doctors and most of the nurses come up behind him to watch, with bated breath, as the life of one of their number lay under the scalpal. 

"Thank God."

Removing the rest of his bloodstained white clothes to trade in for his red bathrobe, Hawkeye accompanied BJ back to the Swamp for some latrine cleaner. Er, a martini, I mean. Margaret went along too, though at a slower pace, so as to be inconspicuous. 

So did Frank.

**(A/N: Why didn't Hawkeye reveal Sergeant Demorest as the attacker? Find out next time on... Henry!)**


	18. Consultations

**Chapter Eighteen**

(A/N: Wow, two chapters in one day. Boy, you suckers're lucky. Why, back in my day, we had to wait a year in between chappy updates, and we had to walk twelve miles uphill through the snow in bare feet just ta read 'em! But reviewin' was the hardest part! We had to write reviews in blood on germ infested paper, and then stick 'em in the mouthes o' rabid sleepin' turtles so they'd get ta the author fast enough! So you young'ns oughta do more of it! ...Review!)

First of all, as per usual, Hawkeye and BJ collapsed onto their cots. Just as BJ opened his mouth to ask, Margaret stormed through the door and shouted

"Why didn't you _tell_ him?!"

Hawkeye looked at her levelly. Something, possibly insanity, sparked behind his blue eyes as he answered

"Look, I know it could possibly get someone else hurt, but I want five minutes alone with that guy before we turn him in to the MPs."

"What?!"

Margaret and BJ cried in unision, staring at him.

"What are you degenerates doing to Major Houlihan?"

Frank asked angrily as he marched in, looking slightly out of breath, probably from having come running at the sound of Margaret's possibly distressed voice. For a moment he looked hurt as he glanced at her, but then glared at the two captains as Hawkeye answered crankily

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Frank, but Margaret's with another man who is, frankly, better looking, has a better personality, and he's one helluva kisser." Margaret's jaw dropped in indignation and, again, she remembered the kiss. She was trying not to turn pink until he added "He looks like a monkey, acts like a goat in heat, and has lips like a fish."

Flushing with rage, Frank shouted

"That's it, Pierce! I've had enough of your bull! You're gonna get it next!"

Hawkeye and BJ sat up rigid. "What do you mean, I'm gonna get it next?!" He was furious. Frank's mouth just shot open as if he couldn't believe he had said that, and he ran out again.

"Perfect opportunity."

Hawkeye said simply, leaning back on his cot and draining another martini. 

"Hawkeye, he could get you killed! And you want to risk that, all for some time alone with Sergeant Demorest to try and beat the shit out of him before we turn him into the MPs?"

"Yes, Margaret. That's exactly it."

"Besides... we need to figure out how, in the name of all that is _holy_, he was the one who caused that plane crash!"

Margaret voiced again, and caused a moment of silence as everyone thought about this. Hawkeye was drinking, BJ was thinking, Margaret was worrying and Frank was somewhere scurrying.

"Look, Hawk, I know you're upset that he tried to kill Henry. Twice, no less. And he shot Klinger, for god's sake. But you can't risk your life just to throw a punch or two."

"It goes farther than that!" Hawkeye shouted, standing up and glaring down at his friend. Then he turned and hurled his martini glass at the door, walking out over the shattered fragments a moment later.

He wanted to go visit Klinger, see if he might possibly be awake yet (which was highly unlikely) but decided against it. People were **not** what he wanted right now, and they probably wouldn't want him either, because he was just in one of those moods. Hawkeye went up to the top of the hill that overlooked the camp and stared down at the little moving lumps of khaki. Hell, that's what they all were. Just little lumps that could be pushed strategically around Korea. And when one lump was gone, they shipped over another batch of young lumps to replace it...

"Great." Hawkeye muttered irritably to himself. "I'm thinking about lumps now." His thoughts turned to the plane crash. The only other one who knew why it upset him was Klinger. Would he tell anyone?

**~*~**

"Demorest, you've got to desert!"

Frank whispered urgently to his partner in crime, but the sergeant was planted firmly on his bed. "No. If I'm going to the stockade, I'm going to the stockade."

"But you're so brave! So cunning! Why admit defeat like that?"

The tall man shrugged, looking annoyed by Frank's constant whining. "The army always catches up with deserters. If I go, I'll have gone trying to take care of that asshole, and that's what counts. He ruined my life, so I'll be looking for another chance to ruin his before I'm shipped off."

There was silence between the two men for a moment, and then Frank said

"They're not going to tell."

"What?"

Something like pain was evident in Frank's voice as he said "I was... watching them, earlier."

"Watching who?"

"Pierce... and Hunnicutt." For some odd reason, he left out the fact that he had seen Margaret with them. "That jerk, Pierce, wants to be alone with you before they turn you in."

Demorest's face wrinkled with disgust.

"You mean he's... one of _those_?"

"Nonono, hehehe, hehe..." Frank said, giggling nervously. "He wants to try and beat you up, or something... I think it's the plane crash that's getting to him..."

Demorest looked up, back to his old self, and sneered. "What the hell's the matter with you today, Burns? You're sounding awful smart."

Frank looked like he had just sucked on a lemon. Glaring, he stalked out the door and muttered "Mother always said I was smarter in a bad mood."


	19. A Storm of a Hangover

**(A/N: Alright, a lot of you asked for longer chapters. Well, some of you asked, some of you bitched. I gave them to you. I was hoping to get at least ONE bloody review for a chapter after that! Just one! What's so hard??? So many people just stopped after I started writing longer chapters. Sorry AEM1 and the great Mrs. Wilberding, and thank you for reviewing faithfully, but if I can't hold an audience anymore I'm either gonna leave it open for you to make up yourselves what could happen next, or slap a one-chapter ending on after this. I know I'm being irrational, but hey! I'M THE AUTHOR! Authors are irrational altogether! That's what makes their stories interesting.**

...Most of the time.)

Chapter Nineteen

Hawkeye sat by Klinger's bed, half asleep and with a monstrous hangover. Upon return to the Swamp the night before he had drank himself into a blurry stupor, and had only returned from his passed-out condition half an hour ago, upon which awakening he had decided to visit Post-Op.

"Mornin' Hawkeye..."

Klinger mumbled groggily, and Hawkeye sat up straight, opening his eyes fully.

"Klinger! You're awake!"

"Yeah. Now if I could only remember what I did to get in this state..." He grumbled, just over a whisper. Yet Hawkeye still put a hand to his head and screwed his eyes shut, hissing "Ugh... not so loud..." "How'd I get a free pass to O.R., again? I'm kinda foggy on that one." Klinger asked, now down to a full whisper, and Hawkeye replied "You took a bullet for Henry." "I saved Colonel Blake?" "That's right." "Wow... I guess I did. I remember that guy, I think he had sarge stripes, with a pistol. What was going on?"

"He was... after Henry. But you don't need to worry about that, we'll explain it to everyone in a few days when it's all taken care of."

Deciding it was better not to ask any more on the subject, Klinger chose another question and asked raspily "So how does a guy go about getting some grub 'round these parts of camp?"

"Ah ah ah, my lebanese life-saver, you're not on solid food for about a week. It's stomach tube for you, until then."

"Aw, but Captain!"

"I'm not a butt-captain. I am a butt-head, I am only a butt-kisser if I'm desperate, and if need be, I am a butt-surgeon, but I am _not_ a butt-captain. I'll see you later. Get some rest, okay?"

"Alright."

Hawkeye got up and walked away from the bed, stumbling and wobbling slightly, grinning as Klinger started mumbling and complaining. It sounded like he was back to his old self. Though he nearly hit the double doors head on, Hawkeye made it outside and looked up at the sky. It was blue with hardly a cloud except for the grayish white wisps that floated lazily by. It was rare that the sun shined, but today it did.

"Hey, Hawk!" 

BJ cried, jogging toward him. 

"You're crushing my brain with every footstep..."

Hawkeye said in a pained voice. Apparently his head was still throbbing with the aftereffects of way too much alcohol.

"You crushed your own brain with the weight of those martini glasses, my inebriated friend. I just thought it would be good for you to know that we're battening down the hatches - the 4077th is in for a big one."

"What?"

"A storm, genius. We're in for a big storm."

"What are you _talking_ about? The sun is shin-"

He looked up, suddenly realising it was darker than it had been five minutes ago. Where there had been sun and wispy little marshmallow clouds, there was now a huge mass of grey covering the sun, and it was growing cooler. The wind was starting to blow.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming. While we're at it, would you mind driving one of those stakes into my brain?"

"Not at all. Your skull should have taken the consistency of gin, as that's what the majority of your bodymass is at the moment."

"Stop trying to sound like a doctor because you know I'm useless as one right now. Why the hell are you so bouncy?"

"Can't help it. The eggs this morning were like rubber. Haven't stopped bouncing since."

"Ugh."

As they reached the Swamp, Hawkeye began fastening down his side of the tent by pulling it taut with ropes and driving stakes into the ground to secure them against the wind. Every time the mallet hit a stake he winced, wanting nothing more than to lie down and sleep through the storm and whatever it brought.

"Done."

Hawkeye wandered inside and dropped onto the cot, laying one forearm over his eyes to try and stop the pounding that was causing him such agony. That was when the door slammed open and he heard Henry's voice shout

"Alright, what the hell is going on here, Hawkeye?!"

"AAAGH! BE QUIET!"

"Some bastard tried to take a shot at me while I was on my way to the john, and I deserve to know what it's all about!"

"Shh, shh, shhh...!"

Hawkeye curled up into the fetal position and jammed his pillow down over his head, moaning. Now his head was spinning wildly and he felt sick. He made a pledge, albeit one in a hangover state, to never drink another martini ever again.

We'd see how long _that_ would last.

"I took care of it, Henry... go away..."

He said from beneath his pillow, his voice coming out very muffled. Henry didn't look satisfied, and pleased that he wasn't the one reeling from too much booze this time, continued to yell

"Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce, I _directly order_ you to tell me what in the name of MacArthur's pipe is going on right under my nose!"

Pausing to realize that he had acted like a Colonel for once and given a direct order, Henry only half-saw Hawkeye sit up quickly, before he leaned over the side of the cot and pleasantly expelled his partially digested breakfast all over Henry's boots.

"Aw, Hawkeye...!"

But he was already asleep on his cot, feeling slightly better, and oblivious to the winds now beginning to whip through the camp.


	20. Hawkeye, The Nurse, and The Purple Heart

**(A/N: No no, AEM1, it's not you. You're my best reviewer ^-^ I just got some rather unpleasant emails flaming me about my use of profanity, and the length of my chapters, and it was quite irritating. I actually find it more pleasureable myself to write longer chapters... I just wish I could get at least one review a chapter. Hmm, sometimes I do get one or two a chapter, but I don't always just want "Oh, it's a great story!" even though that sounds nice and swells my ego to the size of a hot air balloon. :) Nobody ever gives me any critique around here. I stopped asking for it awhile ago. Maybe I should start again... I'm so desperate now that I'm longing for flames to at least have a marshmallow to keep me company.)**

Chapter Twenty

"My boots smell like powdered eggs and gin."

"You sniffed them?"

"I didn't have to. I can smell them in my tent from all the way in postop."

"It's your imagination."

"Don't tell me it's my imagination! You're the one who threw up on them!"

"You made me do it."

"I did not."

"Yes you did! It was your fault!"

"Nuh uh."

"It was your fault."

"It was yours!"

"You kept yelling."

"You got drunk."

"Shut up."

"I don't have to. I've got the bird."

"Well you can take that bird and shove it up your-"

"Colonel Blake, I understand my new nurse is to arrive this afternoon?"

Margaret interrupted the incessant bickering between Hawkeye and Henry, removing a pen from behind her ear to scratch something down on her clipboard as Henry answered "Yes, Major, she should be here about 1400 hours... Now about my bird. I'm a colonel and you're not supposed to talk to me that way..."

"When have I ever spoken to you captain to colonel?"

"...Good point."

As Margaret walked away shaking her head, Henry and Hawkeye stopped at Klinger's bed. Klinger smiled up at them both, and said

"Hiya Colonel, hi Hawkeye. Do you have to check my bandages again? They were done less than an hour ago..."

"No thanks, Klinger, I've seen enough of your hairy chest to last a lifetime."

"Yeah, we're just here to visit." Henry put in. "How ya doin', son?"

"Fine, just fine. I'd almost be glad for some manhole covers and a plate of powdered camel dung, though."

"Well your dream shall come true. Lunch is in an hour and your tray will be one of the first delivered."

"No more tasteless mush?"

"...Didn't I just tell you you got to eat from the Mess Tent again?"

"Aha... good one, Captain."

"So you're feeling ok?" Henry asked, shifting so he was a little bit in front of Hawkeye, who rolled his eyes. "You gave us all a mighty scare. And I, uh... I wanna thank you for taking that bullet for me. I also wanted to give you this - it was delivered first priority this morning."

From his white labcoat pocket, Henry pulled a rectangular black box. He opened it up for Klinger to view its contents, and on the velvet-lined inside rested a medal. Klinger stared.

"A purple heart? For _me_?"

"Yup, all yours."

"Wow! And I get to keep it?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "No, Klinger. You're trying it on then we're sending it back to have it fitted." They laughed and Henry set the box, open, on the stand by Klinger's bed.

"Now, I've got to go and inspect that all the stupid tents are tied down. That big storm's gonna hit within a few hours. I just hope the Major's new nurse doesn't get caught in it."

"Yeah, about that..." Hawkeye put in with a sneaky smile. "A new nurse? Fresh out of training?" "Yup. Now, Pierce, I want you to keep your hands off..." "Hands off, lips on." Hawkeye grinned and got up to leave before Henry could retort. "See ya later, Klinger." "Goodbye, Captain. G'bye, Colonel." He added as Henry, too, stood and left. "Bye Klinger."

~*~

"ATTENTION, ALL PERSONNEL! WEATHER FORECAST FROM A-FARTS!"

Hawkeye looked quizzically at BJ for an explanation as to this term as it was announced over the P.A. BJ smiled and supplied "Armed Forces Radio Television Service. A-F-R-T-S." "Ohhh, yeah, I knew that." "Sure you did." BJ was listening as he darned his socks.

"_A TORNADO WARNING HAS BEEN ISSUED FOR THE SOUTH KOREAN CITIES OF PUSAN, CHINHAE, MASAN, AND ULSAN. PLEASE REMEMBER TO APPLY ADDITIONAL RESTRAINTS TO TENTS AND IMPORTANT SUPPLIES. ALL ARMY, NAVY, MARINE, AIR FORCE, AND COAST GUARD MEN AND WOMEN SHOULD REMAIN SHELTERED UNLESS NECESSARY. UNLESS INSTRUCTED OTHERWISE, ALL PRISONERS OF WAR ARE TO BE GIVEN ADEQUATE SHELTER ALSO. AND FOR ADDITIONAL NOTICE, THE KIMPO AIRPORT HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY SHUT DOWN. THANK YOU._"

The voice that was more familiar to the camp returned.

"YEAH! REMEMBER, FOLKS, TO RESTRAIN YOUR TENTS! THEY MIGHT UP AND RUN AWAY!"

BJ glanced over at Hawkeye as he began ranting and muttering under his breath, something about shutting down all airports permanently. "Oh, wait, then I'd never get home... on one of those damned things I'd probably never get home anyway..." He looked up and saw his best friend staring at him. "What are you looking at?" "Err... nothing. I just remembered I have to get a nurse rotation report from Radar." Somehow this seemed to spark something in the back of Hawkeye's mind. He threw down the _Nudists Weekly_ magazine he had been reading and cried "NURSE AHOY!"

He threw open the door and rushed outside to find a jeep. With a wet olive green poncho covering her fatigues, the new nurse climbed out. Her driver cried to Hawkeye "Better get back in quick, sir, that heavy rain's comin'!" Hawkeye ignored him and ran straight for the woman who was now hauling her bags from the back of the jeep. "Hello there, madame. I'm Hawkeye, also known as the 4077th's Master of Love..." It just didn't feel right anymore, though, and Hawkeye fell silent. How could he so shamelessly try and flirt with a nurse after how he felt for Margaret? But she hadn't spoken to him lately, and was still trying to get on Frank's good side to keep up-to-date on his and Demorest's plans.

"Oh, so you're Hawkeye Pierce, hmm? Sorry, Nurses Kellye and Anderson got to me first. They warned me about you."

"Oh, damn." He said, pretending to be melancholy, but was instead terribly relieved. "Gonna be a gentleman and help me with these bags, or are you gonna stand there like a stick and stare at the mud? Lori Wilber, by the way. Nice to meet you, Captain." "Hawkeye." Grinning, Hawkeye took two of the three she had, carrying them towards the nurses' tent. "I'm not allowed to go in there." He said with a naughty look, but opened the door without knocking anyway and walked in.


	21. Stormy Weather

**(A/N: Just a short, boring chapter to make up for the fact that I've been experiencing more writer's block and haven't been updating. Next one to come soon, I hope! Or you can shoot me with an... 04 WW nug. *Grins* I watched 5 O'Clock Charlie today... haha. "This is insane! No one bet on the Battle of Britain! 'He who controls the skies controls the war'! Herman Goering said that!" "Yeah, well he also wore tutus and ate whole bakeries, Frank." [AEM1- THANKS! YOU SAVED ME FROM MORE HUMILIATION! :D])**

Chapter Twenty-One

"Hawkeye!"

A few startled nurses quickly pulled their shirts the rest of the way on, changing into warmer clothes for the approaching weather. He simply smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, appearing back to his old self, sat the luggage down, and said 

"Thank you, ladies, I know you're all just _so_ glad to see me, but I'll leave you to your nurse." And he hurried out of the tent.

Looking perplexed the nurses stared after him, at the door swinging shut. Lori shrugged off her poncho and let it drop to the floor, hoping that someone would say something. Finally, Kellye said "Well, welcome to the 4077th, your temporary home. How do you like the place so far?"

Lori ran a hand through her short brown hair and said "Is it always this dark here?" The other nurses looked somber. "Don't know if you heard, but there's a tornado warning out for our direct area." "It's really coming down just outside of Pusan." Lori said, nodding. "We went through on the way here, and it's awful out there. The clouds are almost black, and..."

Just then there was the patter of a few stray drops on the canvas tent, and they soon became regular, growing heavier by the moment. "Come on," Anderson said "Major Houlihan's got most of us off duty. Care for a drink in the Officers' Club?" 

"But... we're not Officers. Or are you? I'm just a Lieutenant."

The nurses laughed and explained "When the O-Club was first erected, Hawkeye and Trapper argued to have all personnel allowed in. And now... they are."

"...Trapper?"

"He was Hawkeye's best friend, but he got shipped stateside. BJ's here now. He and Hawkeye were friends from the start."

"Oh."

"So how about that drink?"

"I'd love it."

Each nurse had an olive green poncho like Lori's, and they all put them on and pulled the plastic hoods up in preparation for what was to come. As Anderson pulled the door open, a ferocious gust of wind entered the tent and slammed the door against her shoulder.

"Ow!"

Ginger caught her as she stumbled backwards, and grinned. "Third time today. Can't you think to have someone _else_ open the door, hon?" Anderson laughed slightly and rubbed her arm. The six nurses that bunked in that one tent pushed out into the high wind and the heavy rain that was growing worse by the moment. Black clouds swirled over the peninsula of Korea as far as the eye could see, like someone had accidentally charred the sky.

"This way!"

Someone shouted, and Lori followed her, trying to see through the thick rain spattering against her glasses. 

"HOLD IT!"

There was a collective groan that rose over the howling of the storm. An unidentifiable woman appeared next to Lori and muttered "Hot Lips found us."

"Lieutenant Wilber, I presume? Just what do you think you're doing? All new nurses report to my quarters at their time of arrival! Do you know just how serious this situation is?"

Scrubbing off her glasses to see the blonde-haired Head Nurse better, she tried to stutter an answer. Unfortunately the first thing that popped into her mind was the aforementioned nickname, and she had no idea that it was so hated by Margaret.

"I-I'm sorry, Major... Major Hot Lips, I didn't know..." And she saluted.

Margaret turned a furious shade of scarlet that was observed by everyone there, and each nurse gasped. Suddenly Baker grabbed Lori around the waist and pulled her backwards, toward the Officer's Club. Shouting orders, Margaret was about to run after the escapees, but gave up. It was wet out, anyway, and she wanted to get back to her own tent before the storm got much worse.

"Gah!"

Six nurses, Anderson, Baker, Baliss, Donovan, Kellye, and Wilber burst into the O-Club, but their sudden entrance didn't seem to phase the large collection of drunks that seemed to have accumulated within the establishment. They sat down and ordered drinks, beginning to giggle at what had just happened. Lori was a very, very embarrassed shade of pink and currently sipping a glass of scotch quicker than usual.

~*~

Frank trudged irritably through the mud towards Margaret's tent. Pierce and Hunnicutt had been getting on his nerves again. The degenerates had been watching his every move in the most annoying way. He was getting nervous. Very nervous.

He walked into Margaret's tent without knocking, rather than waiting for her to answer the door while he stood out in the rain. At first she gasped in surprise and anger, and then there was a rather forced smile as she saw who it was. She saw him and walked over to give him a kiss. A different kiss, of course, than she had always given him... Frank sighed.

"Margaret, darling, will you come to the O-Club and dance with me?"

For once, he was sincere, and that look made Margaret nervous. As sad as it was, she had realized that, every other time, his expression was one of a desperate man trying to get into her pants. But for once, he looked like he really loved her.

"...Of course, Frank."

Frank gave a small smile. He didn't want to think about what could happen in the future.


	22. Who cares about a tornado? Where's the S...

**(A/N: Since I had nothing better to do on Thanksgiving, I wrote another chapter. Enjoy.) **

Chapter Twenty-Two

Scooting away from the other giggling nurses, Lori noticed a familiar face. Hawkeye was staring off into the dance floor, his hand resting beside a full martini glass on the bar. 

"Good evening, Captain - er, Hawkeye."

Hawkeye didn't even look up. However, hearing a woman's voice, he said the first thing that came to him, and that usually wasn't smart.

"Sorry lady, I'm taken..." He mumbled, and made a gesture with one hand to wave her off. His blue eyes were fuzzy as he stared, and he never made any motion to glance at her. "I'm... sorry?" But Hawkeye was fixed on the two dancing Majors, leaving a very confused and slightly annoyed Lori Wilber to retreat to her new friends.

"Don't bother with Hawkeye"

All of the nurses rolled their eyes.

"I was only saying hello, after he was kind enough to help me bring my bags in..." Lori mumbled, and the others gave her sympathetic glances. "We don't know what's gotten into him lately." Said Baker with a shrug. "But it's made it a lot easier on us. You married?" "5 years." She said, and smiled. "Congratulations."

Everyone looked up, even Hawkeye, as Igor stood on the bar, unceremoniously tipping a few drinks with his big boots.

"Hey, everybody, listen up! The O-Club is officially closed, due to the weather. Finish your drinks and get the heck out!"

Amidst grumbles and groans he hopped back down. People drifted out into the rain, before running to their tents when they realized how icy it had become, and how hard. Hawkeye noticed several women glaring and rolling their eyes at him, as he ran for the Swamp, and they for their respective living quarters.

"Margaret, darling... if anything happens... promise you'll find me?"

"I will, Frank."

Margaret said nervously, wanting to get back to her own tent. Frank kissed her on the cheek and ran and headed toward the same destination as Hawkeye, while Margaret went the other way.

~*~

All throughout the night thunder boomed and roared, and no one got a wink of sleep. People were finding strange reasons to be up and pacing their tents. There was something of a truce on as far as the war went, because of the dangerous weather.

Suddenly the rumbling thunder gave a deafening crack, which drowned out everything for all of three seconds, and echoed through the camp. Some people yelled and dropped to the floors of their tents, thinking it to be an explosion. That is, until the PA came on again and Radar's voice shouted

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! A TORNADO'S TOUCHED DOWN OUTSIDE OF PUSAN! TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY, IT'S COMIN' RIGHT AT US!"

There were small noises of terror coming from all directions, and at that moment, all the men and women of the 4077th dove unceremoniously into their cots, boots and all. Due to lack of discipline in the camp... not one person could remember standard military procedure for a tornado.

Except, of course, Frank. 

But he was probably too scared.

Only one person could be seen outside, running through the compound as fast as her legs could carry her. She flew into the Swamp and immediately fell onto Hawkeye's cot, which groaned under the added weight. 

Hawkeye jumped as something heavy ended up in bed with him, and muttered irritably "God, if you just answered all my prayers for the last two years and dropped a hot blonde angel into my bed... tonight sure wasn't the best time to do it." And as he felt the figure shivering and shaking beside him, Hawkeye blinked and stared.

It was Margaret!

"Hawk, are you being captured by the Chinese?"

BJ asked irritably from the next cot over. "No..." "Then keep it, and yourself, quiet. There's a tornado coming this way, and I'd like to get some sleep before I end up on the roof of Post Op." "It's Margaret." There was the distinct sound of forehead striking metal, and a rare few cursewords came from BJ's side of the tent. A moment later the light over his bed flicked on, along with Hawkeye's, and they both stared at Margaret. She was soaking wet, and crying, flinching heavily every time thunder clapped and lightning lit up the sky.

"Why aren't you two numbskulls _afraid_?!" She sobbed. They didn't know that she was afraid of loud noises, nor did they wonder why she was in their tent, crying. Hawkeye and BJ just stared at one another like the half-drunk morons they were at the moment. What had been left in the still that evening was gone. Hawkeye pulled Margaret to him and said "I think we need a drink. But the still's out of commission..." At that moment, Henry burst through the door too. He was slightly worse off than Hawkeye or BJ as far as inebriation, but mostly coherent. That was the way it went around the 4077th. The more frightened you feel, the more you drink.

"There's a tornado coming, and I thought we could all use a nightcap..." He muttered.

Margaret looked up and sniffed, forgetting her fear for the moment. She wanted Hawkeye to comfort her, and he was starting to come out of his slight stupor by the way he was holding her, but it was still slightly irritating. She sighed. "I've got a little... stash... in the supply tent..."

Henry whirled around towards the door, one finger raised in the air, and shouted "To the supply tent!" It was only a matter of seconds before he hit the floor, but BJ managed to catch him in midair. As they ran out, no one noticed Frank's empty cot. Nor did anyone really care...

They rushed across the compound. As they paused, each noticed a black, swirling mass in the distance. Thunder rumbled and crashed deafeningly above them, and Margaret screamed and almost began to cry again. Judging by the tornado's size it was still very far away, but realizing that they were too far from the Swamp, Henry, Margaret, Hawkeye, and BJ all ducked into the tent right in front of them.

Conveniently, it happened to be the supply tent.

"So... where's the booze?" 

Henry asked, leaning against one of the shelves and looking like he was about to fall asleep. Or pass out. One of the two. Margaret went to the very back, but not before giving the other three strict orders (Yes, of course even Henry) to stay away from her private 'store'. She came back with half a bottle of scotch, which Henry promptly tried to grab. Smacking his hand away, she opened the bottle and took a pull, passing it to Hawkeye, Hawkeye to BJ, and BJ to Henry who took the last mouthful and drained it to the last drop.

"That's all that was in there?"

"Nnnyup."

"Hold on, I think I might have some in here. Last time, with Donovan... I don't think I ever came and got it..." Hawkeye didn't notice that Margaret was following him until they were out of sight, when she punched him hard on the back. 

"Ow! Margaret, what the hell was that for?"

"That was for Donovan!"

"What?"

"For fooling around with Allison Donovan!" 

"So what?"

"Well... you... cheated on me!"

"Damn it, Margaret, it was only a kiss!"

That's when it hit both of them. They had been almost rearranging their lives to suit one another as though they were a couple.

But it had only been a kiss.

Hawkeye looked uneasy and said

"Margaret, there's a _tornado_ coming toward our camp. God knows if we'll even _live_ through it. Now would you stop worrying about something as petty as me doing the hundred-yard-dash with a nurse and LET ME FIND THE DAMNED GIN?"

"Gin? You got our hopes up for _gin?_

BJ called from the front.

"No luck, I couldn't even find it."

The other two came to the back, and that's when Frank Burns and Rowland Demorest made their presence known.

**(A/N: I know, that chapter was written very weird...ly. I swear on my right hand (the one I write with) that the next one will be better. Really! It will!)**


	23. The Chapter Without a Title

**Chapter Twenty Three**

The roaring of the storm drowned out Margaret's shriek as she found herself six feet from the end of a pistol. Now, in some circumstances six feet might sound like a bit of a length, but not when a little piece of lead could fly that far in a split second and snuff out your life. 

Hawkeye was about to run forward but quickly abandoned the idea as he saw the glint of metal and the determined expression on Demorest's face. He and Margaret were held in place by fear of being shot, while Frank and Henry were in a similar position under aim of Frank's rifle. His hands were shaking and so was the weapon, but neither wanted to take any chances. 

"So... we meet again!"

Demorest cried. Hawkeye rolled his eyes at the cheesy dramatics, wincing as some flying piece of debris whipped against the canvas tent and created a momentary indentation. It was close. Thunder cracked above them - Margaret screamed again and raised her hands to cover her head. Demorest's hand flinched over the trigger, but he did not pull it.

"YOU IDIOT, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

She shouted. Frank and Demorest both looked taken aback as she vented her scared, angry feelings both about the storm _and_ their current situation, onto the Major and Sergeant.

"WHY WOULD YOU TRY AND KILL HENRY IN THE FIRST PLACE? HE WAS JUST A LIEUTENANT COLONEL TRYING TO GO HOME TO HIS WIFE, HIS KIDS! HIS LIFE! DON'T YOU HAVE A WIFE, YOU COLD HEARTED BASTARD?!"

Eyes narrowed, Demorest took several steps forward and placed the cold gun right against Margaret's forehead. There was a sharp intake of breath all around, and Hawkeye made a move towards Demorest, but Frank warningly tapped the rifle's barrel against the back of his head.

"I did, as a matter of fact." He said sweetly, pushing the metal hard against her skin. "Until Blake took it all away."

"What?" Margaret gasped quietly, flinching involuntarily every time there was a loud noise from outside. Thunder, debris crashing into garbage cans, garbage cans _becoming_ debris... Demorest took it as only her being a pathetic weakling, cowering under the thought of a bullet through her brain. Most would have broken under that circumstance, anyway.

"My wife. Jeanine. Died of cancer a year ago."

"How in the hell is that Henry's fault?"

Hawkeye asked angrily from behind him. Demorest didn't even look at him.

"I put in for a hardship discharge. The doctor said she wasn't going to live long... and I wanted to be by her side. So I filled it out and left it with the goddamned clerk who supposedly put it on Blake's desk." His voice was quavering now.

"By the time she died there was still no sign of it. I went in to complain... and he looked... and he found it in a stack of unsigned papers that had been shoved in a drawer. How many more lives were ruined, just because the bastard was too lazy to do his work? Instead he had to sit around and drink and play poker..."

"Uh oh..." Henry mumbled from the back. His voice was high pitched and very scared, and it sounded, at last, as though he were mostly sober. Demorest looked at him and smiled a very, very demented smile.

"Well well well, if it isn't our defective Commanding Officer. I've still got a bullet... or six... for you, but maybe we'll take little Maggie first... after all..."

"Wait, uh, can I ask something?"

Everyone in the tent was close to rolling their eyes as Hawkeye spoke up. He had a very bad tendency to ramble on needlessly when he was nervous or scared. And right now... he must have been prepared for the ramble of a lifetime.

"How did you do the plane crash?"

A demented grin lit up the gun-wielding sergeant's face. It was not a pleasant sight.

"Well, a korean... acquaintance of mine..."

"Mat-Sune?"

Hawkeye asked, recalling the name. Demorest's eyes bulged slightly.

"What? How do you know that?!"

"Your last letter, or as far as we know, never made it to him. Luckily it fell into the _right_ hands."

His eye twitched, but his trigger finger did not. They were all waiting in silence, or so he assumed, unable to hear anything but the horrific whistling of the tornado. Margaret was turned from everyone as best as possible, hunched slightly and crying. 

"Mat-Sune is an acquaintance of mine from Pyongyang."

"Wait... isn't that _North_ Korea's capital?"

"Good job, Blake... get another one right and I might give you a cookie. Or a bullet through the brain." Demorest growled irritably. Gods, these people were ruining the effect of all the drama he had prepared for this situation... "Anyway, he owed me a favor, so I asked him to get around a few of his 'low friends in high places'. They commandeered the anti-aircraft guns from the soldiers who manned them, and took that plane out of the sky like a bird with a stone."

He was the only one smiling.

"Anyway, back to the fun part." Sergeant Rowland Demorest really _was_ seriously demented, possibly over the death of his wife when he could not be at her side, or possibly over the fact that _all his attempts to kill Henry Blake had FAILED._ Whatever it was, it had twisted him into a sick, sick man. He pointed his pistol at Margaret and yelled over the storm

"Here's one for the little spy! Thought you could play both of us, eh, Margaret? You little bitch... you'll pay for everything you ruined!"

But Demorest found a rifle barrel at the side of his head. 

"You will not shoot Margaret Houlihan."

"Get that fucking thing off me, Burns, or I'll blow your face sky high!"

"You will not shoot her."

"She was a spy for _them_, you idiot! What is the _matter_ with you?!"

"She doesn't deserve it!" Frank's voice only held a hint of the usual whine.

Margaret's mouth fell open. Hawkeye's, BJ's, and Henry's all followed. Surely Frank was drunk, drugged, out of his mind... _something_. 

CRACK!

Demorest never saw the butt of the rifle as it slammed into the base of his skull with alarming force and knocked him unconscious. The iron frying pan hit Frank with slightly less force, but still had a similar effect. Radar dropped the pan onto Frank's upturned rear end and clapped both hands over his mouth, astounded at the courage he had worked up to severely assault a superior officer.

And Lori just grinned.

"You four aren't the only ones who meant to seek shelter in the supply tent." 

To everyone's surprise, the P.A. blasted on outside.

"GET DOWN! GET DOWN! HERE IT COOOOOOOOOOOMESSSSSSSSS..."

There was a small snap and several quiet clangs as the P.A. speaker broke off and bounced away, carried like a piece of paper by the tornado's ferocious winds. Hawkeye grabbed Lori's arm and dragged her down, also putting his arm over Margaret's back, even though there was no need because she was already curled up in a little ball on the floor.

"Where do we go in a tent like this?!"

BJ shouted. The sound outside had escalated to a screaming, shrieking wind that poured through every crack and crevice, letting the sound that was like fingernails on a blackboard infiltrate everyone's minds. Nothing else could be heard as Henry pulled them towards one of the sturdier supply shelves and ordered them to sit with their hands over their necks/heads, even though they couldn't hear him. Suddenly Hawkeye got up and started to run away from the others. 

"PIERCE! YOU GET THE HELL BACK HERE!"

Only those seated directly next to Henry could hear. Margaret's forehead was resting against the shelf, her face pale and streaked with tears, her breaths heavy and short. Radar was much the same way, sitting beside her. Henry was staring off to where Hawkeye disappeared into the darkness that had fallen over all. BJ caught on and followed, and they came back dragging the two unconscious men.

**(A/N: This one was also very strangely... or rather, unrealistically written. O-o;; Two notes. 1- I know that Frank being sincere is highly unlikely. However, I derived the concept from the last part of... uhh... the episode where Margaret got married. I don't remember the name of it. But at the end, Frank sounded sincere... didn't he? "Goodbye... Margaret..." :( 2- I know that a one Lieutenant Lori Wilber seems to be a character that was introduced too late to play a major part in the story. But it's mine so I can do that. AAAAAAHAHAHA! Please review! Mwah.)**


	24. Destruction

**(A/N: Just a quick chapter to prove that I am not dead! This was written in a grand total of... ten or fifteen minutes, I think. Mrs. W., I apologize... it hurts me so very deeply, but I had to... to make fun of you in this chapter. *SOB* *Coughsnickercough* Enjoy! Read, and only Review if you feel like it, I suppose... *Nudge* Belated Merry Christmas/Chanukkah(sp?)/Kwanzaa/Whatever you celebrate, and Happy New Year!)**

"Watch oooout-!"

Hawkeye's throat was raw from screaming warnings at the others. As the shelves began to fall, there was no stopping them - boxes upon boxes of vials and tubes and more boxes and jars cascaded down on the unfortunate men and women. Pills and powders and liquids spilled from their containers as they rained down, but that wasn't the half of it. Blankets and rubber gloves and pillowcases and bedpans flew everywhere. The heavy boxes and the metal shelves creaked and groaned and, under the significant persuasion of the battering winds, tipped and trapped Hawkeye, BJ, Radar, Lori, Margaret, Henry, Roland, and Frank underneath them.

It was dark. Not just dark, like a night without a moon, but oh my _God_ was it dark. The darkness filled their minds as they lay, some near one another and able to reconcile their fears by knowing that they had a friend there, or others who were left to the merciless winds that pummeled everything within its reach, and were alone.

It was inevitable that the storm should pass, and indeed, it did. Well, the terrifying, destructive, loud, possibly fatal part, anyway. Now it was just raining. BJ, one of four who were conscious (Radar and Hawkeye had been conked on the head and were currently a bit worse for the wear), called out

"It's over... and not like last time's over..."

'Last time's over' had been a brief respite from the shrieking, swirling winds and the pounding of debris. The rain had continued, but moderate silence had reigned, and they heard nothing but their own hearts pounding and the storm raging outside of their own private little haven. Luckily Radar had experienced tornados before, living in Iowa, and told them to get back down. When it started up again, a shoe, yes, someone's shoe had whipped through the fluttering canvas and smacked him a good one on the back of the head.

Hawkeye'd been out since the shelf fell.

"Really? Ya sure now, Hunnicutt?" It was Henry's groan, and part of the shelf started to move as their fearless commanding officer, or lack thereof, tried to squirm his way out. He staggered around, rubbing the feeling back into his legs, and turned away from the holes that had been torn in the canvas of the tent. He didn't want to look upon what had been done alone - he would wait for the others and they could brave it together.

There was a moan of pain and confusion, and someone stirred at the corner of Henry's vision. "What the _hell_ is going on here? Ugh..."

"Shut up, _Sergeant_. As soon as I find an MP who's not hanging by his skivvies from a tree or sitting on the PostOp roof, I'll have you striped and in the stockades until you shrivel up and a very important part of your anatomy falls off!"

Even Henry looked surprised at what had come from his own mouth. BJ started to chuckle, and Demorest just fell silent. 

"You gonna help us or what, Chief?"

"Yeah, hold your horses..."

"I can't, they're in North Korea. Or Japan. Or Russia, for all I know! But they're sure not in Kansas anymore."

A series of exasperated noises followed Lori's attempt at a joke. (Note: The sad, giggling excuse for a human being upon whom the character Lori Wilber is based knows that I wouldn't make sport of her without reason. However, I fail to find a reason - except that it's just plain fun.) With Henry's assistaince, everyone got out except for Demorest, and Frank who had come around soon after. Hawkeye and Radar were easily woken with threats, slaps, and a few coaxing phrases from Margaret which cannot be repeated here, but caused Hawkeye's eyes to snap open and a grin to spread over his face.

All six quickly sobered as they followed Hawkeye through the practically nonexistant tentflaps to gaze upon the damage that had been done. Truthfully, it could have been much worse. No one was hurt except for a few scrapes and bruises, and one missing prosthetic foot (which was a story in itself).

Dazedly, people began walking out of their shaken quarters, adjusting ruffled clothing, tousled hair, and searching through various personal items that had been blown all over camp. Some unfortunate nurse was jumping up and down as she tried to retrieve a garter belt that was tangled around the P.A. speaker. Eventually she gave up and walked away, trying to pretend that it wasn't hers.

"MP's?"

Henry called out halfheartedly. A pair of men in dirtied Military Police uniforms, one lacking his gun and the other his helmet, wriggled out from under an overturned jeep and jogged dazedly toward him. They saluted.

"There are two men in the supply tent... er... what used to be the supply tent. Lock them up and see to it that they're removed, forcefully if necessary, as soon as possible. Uh, please."

The MP's dragged Demorest and Frank out of the mess of supplies, marching them at gunpoint into what was left of the mess tent. They needed no second bidding - both already hated Major Burns, and anyone with whom he was associated could only be just as bad.

Suddenly Hawkeye and BJ met each other's gaze, and it clicked. In unison they shouted "THE STILL!" And ran for the Swamp.


	25. Prisoners and Airplanes

"Oh darling, I'm so glad you're alright!"

Hawkeye kneeled beside her on the floor and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. BJ rolled his eyes and kicked his friend lightly in the rear end.

"Get up, Hawk. Having your saliva all over the Still's gonna corrupt the brew for future generations. One little trace of your DNA in our gin could be the downfall of the entire human race! So knock it off."

Except for a few missing pieces and a crack in it, the Still was in decent shape. Hawkeye picked it up gently, still murmuring to the inanimate object, and set it down in its honorary place once BJ had righted the old desk.

After their biggest worry was taken care of, one could just see the way Hawkeye and BJ's faces fell when they surveyed the damage that had been done to their tent. Their bunk. Their temporary, involuntary, and hated-yet-almost-loved home. Frank's footlocker was open and its contents thrown everywhere. His Bible was ripped to shreds. There were socks, fatigues, and various other items strewn all around. Hawkeye's mattress had knocked over the metal furnace in the center of their quarters, and there was something causing the canvas ceiling to hang down over BJ's bed. Apparently a heavy object of some sort had landed on top.

Hawkeye didn't even wiggle his eyebrows suggestively or grin as a piece of unmentionable female clothing found its way into his hands - possibly something Frank had stolen from Margaret. He tossed it down and sighed, sitting on his nearly inexistent bed.

"At least it's over."

"Even if I had ever heard of Korea before I came here, I would never have guessed it was prone to tornados."

"It's not. Been here nearly three years now, and all we've ever had is some harmless thunderstorms. Guess this just isn't our war, Beej."

"Come on, let's go see what they're doing with Ferretface and... that other guy. We can start cleaning this mess later."

They got up and left the Swamp, into the cool grey drizzle that was Korea. All the tents were still standing, though the centerpoles had fallen in some of them and their tops had collapsed inward. 

Suddenly, as they were heading towards where Margaret and Henry were overseeing Frank and Demorest's disposal, Hawkeye and BJ stopped dead. Hawkeye put on his most horrified expression, and not all of it was for a humorous show.

"Oh. My. _God_."

One wall of the Officer's Club had been blown off completely. The bar had been smashed by random debris, and there were drinks everywhere.

Not so much as a bottle of scotch or a can of beer had survived.

BJ had to drag him away, and Henry looked up from the papers he was signing as Hawkeye moaned in despair. "He saw the O-Club, didn't he?" He asked mournfully. BJ nodded. "What's gonna happen to those two?" Hawkeye asked, nodding towards the Major and Sergeant, who were handcuffed and being loaded into one of the trucks that was, fortunately, still right-side up. The tornado hadn't actually passed through the camp, but close enough to do a decent amount of damage.

"As soon as I'm done signing, initialling, and verifying that I signed in place of my initials which initially signified that I signed it, we're gonna let I-Corps take care of them."

"Good."

Each imprisoned man had a throbbing lump on his head. Hawkeye heard Frank whisper to his partner in crime "What'd they hit us with?" "I... don't know..." Roland Demorest mumbled, shaking his head. Hawkeye smirked slightly and walked over to them.

"Well, Lieutenant Wilber hit the _Sergeant_, here, with a rifle... and Frank, Radar brained you with a frying pan."

Frank whimpered.

"We were knocked unconscious by... ENLISTED PERSONNEL?!"

"Damn straight."

Frank groaned and whined and pleaded innocence as he was shoved roughly into the truck by one of the MPs, who was looking a little roughed up, but seemed to be ok. Henry handed him the written report. He took it, tipped his helmet, and climbed into the truck. Then he drove off with the two prisoners, Hawkeye and BJ waving to the departing vehicle.

"Where's Radar?" Hawkeye asked as the four of them turned and walked away. BJ and Margaret were being strangely silent, possibly in thought.

"Checking out the damage to his office."

"Oh. How 'bout Lori?"

"She's with Radar."

"Oh."

There was a constant murmur all around them. Camp personnel were still in shock, most of them wandering aimlessly and gaping at their surroundings. Some were making themselves useful and trying to clean up the mess, even if they weren't sure where to start.

"Hawkeye, come with me. Now." BJ said suddenly, looking up from the muddy ground. "Margaret, you come too." He grabbed Hawkeye's arm and they veered left into the destroyed Officer's Club.

"Now that we're out of danger, I want to know."

"Know what?"

"Yeah, I've noticed it too." Margaret said slowly. "Whenever someone talks about it, he gets all moody and stalks away like a child."

"What are you talking about?"

"So you'd finally better tell us."

"ABOUT WHAT?!"

BJ stared at him.

"The plane crash."

Hawkeye's eyes narrowed, like they always did when someone mentioned an airplane crash, or just the mode of transportation in general.

"I don't want to talk about it."

But Margaret and BJ stepped in front of him, and it was clear that they wouldn't let him pass until he told them.


	26. A Happy Ending?

**(A/N: Well, this is it, folks. Last chapter. *Sniffle* Yeah, I knew there'd be some initial confusion after everything that happened in chapter 25. But in the chapter... er... I'm not sure which one it is, but I think it was "A Plan!" Hawkeye got all mysterious and was mumbling about plane crashes. I'm not sure why BJ chose now to bring it up, but I couldn't just leave it... It's not like I, uh, forgot about it or anything. *Whistles innocently* It's odd, I know. But it makes up for some of those mistakes in the first season. Hehe. Well, enjoy, and please leave me a review if it's to your liking.)**

Hawkeye glared steadily at BJ and Margaret, hoping that his most ferocious expression might scare them into moving, but it obviously didn't work. Margaret raised an eyebrow, switching quickly and easily into her Major Houlihan mode.

"Captain Pierce, as your superior officer, I..."

"No."

"Order you to..."

"Fine!"

He yelled suddenly, looking angry. "Just before the war started in '51, did you ever hear of flight 5663?"

Margaret's face fell and she nodded sadly. "Yes. It crashed into the ocean just off of Hawaii. It was full of nurses going to basic training. No survivors."

"Yeah, that's the one." Hawkeye sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his expression became painful. "I had a sister."

"A sister?" BJ asked incredulously.

"She lived in Vermont... that's where she moved to 5 years after mom died. And she was on that flight. She joined the army before the war started, and was shipped off on the first day."

BJ and Margaret just stared with their mouths open. They'd taken in a lot of information in the last few days, and this was the most recent load.

"Hawk, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, we never should have pressed you for an explanation."

"It's ok, I've been mostly over it for awhile."

"But you were just so..." "So..." "Strange?" They said in unision, and Hawkeye tried to crack a smile. "When have I _not_ been strange?" 

~*~

The men and women of the 4077th stood, not in formation this time, but in a big crowd around Henry. Farewells and blessings flew thick from all around him, and there were tears falling everywhere. Obviously they weren't very happy about the prospect of seeing him board the chopper for Kimpo again. Last time... well... they didn't want to think about last time.

"Guys, I'll be fine!" Henry laughed, but nervously. Hawkeye and BJ rushed forward and sandwiched their commander in a tight hug, both grinning. Henry struggled for breath, chuckling lightly. "Leggo... urgh... I'll miss you guys too." He shook hands and shared a hug with Father Mulcahy, who said a small blessing and smiled. Margaret kissed him on the cheek and gave him a hug, the kind a true friend would, despite Hawkeye's protests and suggestions of where else to kiss him. Hawkeye was awarded a whack in the head by Henry as well.

And Klinger. Oh boy, Klinger. He was wearing a bright pink dress that poofed out at the bottom and had a ton of white lace on the hem, sleeves, and neck. Covering up the mess of black hair on top of his head was a wig of unnatural golden curls with pink ribbons in them. 

"Give your girls a kiss for me, Henry." He said seriously, giving Henry a tight hug. "I'll be sure not to let them get the Lebanese cooties. Thanks Klinger."

With tears in his eyes he stepped away from the crowd, Radar standing firmly in his place beside Henry.

Their own goodbyes had been shared earlier.

"I never thought I'd have to go through all this hell again, the first time I got on that chopper, into that airport, on that plane. But since I did have to face it all again, and more, I'm... I'm sure glad I did it with you."

There were no wisecracks, no jokes, no words spoken as Henry jogged up the path to the helipad and boarded the helicopter. But not without one last tight hug for Radar, and a few quiet words spoken into his ear. Then, sadly, he gave the pilot the 'thumbs up' sign and they began to rise.

As the camp disappeared below him, Hawkeye, BJ, Margaret, Radar, Klinger, and Father Mulcahy stepped forward from the large group and threw an elaborate salute to make sure Henry could see it. Then, the rest of the nurses, corpsmen, and other personnel continued the salute, before drifting off when the helicopter was out of sight.

He was gone.

~*~

Radar came in through the double doors, halfway through an OR session two days later. Hawkeye looked up, but could only see the top of Radar's knit cap, his head bowed over the piece of paper. The tall surgeon's heart leapt into his throat.

"This had better not be a repeat performance, Radar..."

He choked out, as Radar prepared himself to speak. The young corporal took a deep breath, and read

"A call... just came through... Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane..." Tears of disbelief were threatening to fall all around the room. "...-landed safely in Springfield, Illinois yesterday afternoon. He and Mrs. Blake send their best from Bloomington, and Colonel Blake says... says he loves you all."

There was silence, and then a flood of relieved laughter. Hawkeye bent back over his patient, wearing a big grin behind his mask, and sighed happily.

No matter what obstacles lay before them, may they all have the good fortune to make it home too.

**(A/N: Well. *Long, suffering voice* It's been fun, but it's over now. Really, that's it. But I have one confession to make. Go back to the chapter 'Awakening'. When Henry woke up and saw that nurse standing over him and thought that it was Lorraine... well... that's originally what this story was intended to be about. Henry having an affair with a nurse. O_O I think I like this much better.**

Thank you for all your reviews... Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen! :D)


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